A River of Golden Bones (The Golden Court, #1)(4)

My father has sent me to Valta for schooling. I will be unable to visit for the foreseeable future, but I’m sure I’ll have even more stories to share when I do. This is a protection stone. Wear it always. I’m sorry, little fox. Don’t forget me. G



I toyed with my delicate amber pendant along its thin gold chain. How could he think I would forget him? He was my first and only friend I hadn’t shared a womb with. Seven years since I’d seen him or heard his tales of magic and monsters. Seven years since we’d chased each other through the forests or shared our hopes for the future. It had hurt more than I’d liked to admit that no more letters came . . .

The summer’s swollen moon, hidden in the clear blue sky, pulled on me. Soon it would be full, and the urge to transform would overwhelm me once more. Most of the time I could control it, but the days leading up to the full moon set every Wolf on edge . . . and that was before my current rarefied state.

“Do you remember the story of the necklace?”

I swirled the stem of the flower in my hands. The cloying, sweet aroma wafted around us as we ambled through the woods. “It was your great-grandmother’s dying wish that her children be protected from harm. A family heirloom now.” As I remembered his recent tragedy, I rested a hand on Grae’s forearm, the feeling making my whole body buzz as I said, “I heard about your mother’s passing. I’m so sorry.”

“It was many years ago.” His eyes scanned my face before he stepped out of my touch.

My heart ached at that little movement. I knew it meant he didn’t want to talk about his mother. The baker had told me that Queen Lucrecia had died a week after our necklaces arrived. I’d wanted to flee to Highwick and find Grae the second I’d heard, and probably would have if Briar hadn’t hugged me so close, whispering soothing words into my ears. I was devastated for him.

“Do you remember any of my other faery stories?” Grae asked, changing the subject.

“All of them,” I murmured. I cleared my throat as his cheeks dimpled. “The cleaved peak, the ever-sailing ship, the gold mines of Sevelde . . . of juvlecks and ostekkes and other monsters that even the myths and songs seem to have forgotten.”

Of course I remembered them all. I had pestered him to tell them over and over, always begging for another story. And, in the long years since I last saw him, I repeated them in my mind, imagining the sound of his voice.

I tucked the white flower behind my ear. “What do you remember of your visits here?”

He sighed, closing his eyes. “Games of chase, the sound of your laughter in my mind.” His grin widened. “And your many secret words.”

“Code words,” I corrected. “In case we need to flee.”

“I think shouting ‘run’ would be just as effective.” He chuckled, clasping his hands behind his back and slowing to a creeping pace. Maybe he didn’t want this moment to end as much as me.

“I don’t think shouting ‘run’ is particularly stealthy.” I teased, tapping my forefinger to my chin in mock contemplation. “Our current one is ‘quiver,’ by the way.”

He barked out a laugh. “How would one stealthily work the word ‘quiver’ into a sentence without being detected?”

“I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” I winked at him, and he nearly walked smack into a sapling, dodging it at the last moment. This was the playful Wolf I remembered.



Grae pulled up short, staring at the spot where the trail ended in dense forest. “Where’s the cabin?”

With a laugh, I pointed to a thin seam of warped air. The image of the forest bent as if looking through steam on a hot day. “For all the faery stories you tell, you haven’t seen a glamour before?”

Quirking his brow, Grae reached out and touched the bending air. His mouth dropped open as his fingertips disappeared.

I snickered and looped my arm through his; the contact making my cheeks burn as I tried to hide it with bravado. “Come on,” I said, tugging him through the glamoured air. “Vellia will delight you with her magic once we’re inside.”

Stepping through the seam, cool air rushed over my skin and the cabin appeared. What was once an empty forest was now a sprawling acreage, complete with gardens and stables. Two golden carriages parked in front of the house, the horses already unhitched and grazing in the grassy gardens beyond our home. I dropped my hold on Grae’s arm, flustered at that buzzing contact between us, and clenched my hands by my sides.

I really needed to stop touching him.

Grae’s eyebrows shot up. “This is the cabin?”

Vellia built the three-story house from giant redwood trunks. Garlands of wooden beads hung from the rose-colored shutters, vivid summer flowers filled the window boxes, and a bright blue door greeted us. A faery clearly designed the home.

“Do you like it?”

“All these years running in the woods together, I’d imagined you were returning to a one-bedroom hovel,” Grae jeered. “I should’ve known better.” Shaking his head, he followed me up the steps to the front door.

“Did you want us to live in a dilapidated shack?” I teased.

“No, no—of course not. It’s just . . . this,” he said, gesturing at the house.

“Dying wishes make for powerful magic.” Before he could reply to that—and before my fingers could reach the handle—the door opened.